It’s another rainy, miserable winter day. The kitchen floor tiles are squishy because the water table is so high that it seeps up through the concrete slab. And looking out our bedroom window right now I see a stream swollen almost out of its banks, a yard and pasture that look like one big lake, and wet horses standing in mud up to their fetlocks.

That’s thanks to the stubborn know-it-all who insisted on building our stable in a flood plain, which means that our horses spend half the year fighting thrush and rain rot. We argued that the stable should be built up on the highest level part of the field, against the hill, but no. “Just think,” he said, “how beautiful it will be to turn into the driveway, look down, and see the horses looking out over their stall doors.”

There is nothing beautiful about our stable, in spite of all the money and work Ben and I have put into it in the past few years. And going to care for the horses every day is ten times harder because the mud is so deep and slippery. It’s not easy to haul a 50-pound bale of hay when you’re trying to keep from landing on your butt in the mud while fighting off three hungry 900-pound horses. As soon as we can afford it, we’re just going to replace the old stable completely with a small barn well out of the flood zone.

Right now, though, I just want it to stop raining!!!

Well, one of the many things I’ve learned in the past ten months is that motherhood really forces you to prioritize. And obviously, blogging has been pretty far down my list, well below The Boy, his Daddy, sleep, the animals, and attempts to keep the house from looking like an episode of “Hoarders.” But I miss having an outlet, so I’m going to try to get back into it and follow the rules of clarity and conciseness (or concision, if you prefer) that my college writing professors tried to beat into me.

So, for what it’s worth, here I am.